


Perfectly Soft

by KM_Slowly



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Protective Crowley (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-17
Updated: 2020-05-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24229078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KM_Slowly/pseuds/KM_Slowly
Summary: “I’m sorry. I just don’t want you thinking that you’re anything but perfect, y’know?”
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 93





	Perfectly Soft

**Author's Note:**

> My first post being a worrying chumby angel? Yes. It’s more likely than you think. Because I am soft for the hurt/comfort.

“Afternoon, angel.” Aziraphale turned from his spot from where he stood in front of a bookshelf, organizing the books that some damned customers had shuffled all out of order.

“Crowley! I wasn’t expecting you back so early.” Said angel walked over to his demon counterpart, who had his hands in his impossibly tight jean pockets and his sunglasses still covering his eyes.

“Ah, well. Wasn’t expecting such an easy job, either. Human had practically tempted himself.”

Unlike Aziraphale, Crowley still had assignments from Hell. Granted, they were easier and didn’t involve as much time as they normally would have. After all, Crowley was no longer a necessity of Hell. That didn’t mean Satan would let him stop being a demon. That’d be a gift, to be released from the grasps of that place.

“Well I’m glad you’re back, my dear. Care for a glass of wine?” Aziraphale asked, already about to move past Crowley into the kitchen.

“Actually, I was thinking of some lunch. Dining at the Ritz, perhaps? My treat.” It was a sweet offer, one that the normal Aziraphale would never pass up. The past few days hadn’t been grand, and somehow Crowley being gone only made it worse. Aziraphale stopped in his tracks, immediately feeling like he was turning pale.

Crowley noticed and cocked his head to the side. “What? Already ate lunch, then?”

“Ah- uhm, yes. I have, actually. Terribly sorry.”

Now, anyone could see that this bumbling angel was a terrible liar. _Especially_ Crowley, who had known him for over six-thousand years. And usually, he would have commented on it. Called him an awful liar and that it didn’t fit an angel. But something stopped him this time. The look on Aziraphale’s face somehow told Crowley that a callout would not be helpful right now.

“Quite alright,” he replied, removing his hands from his pockets. He took his sunglasses off and set them on the desk nearby. “Dinner, then?”  
Aziraphale relaxed slightly with Crowley dropping the subject, but still was a little on edge. Had Crowley done something wrong?

“We’ll see.”

Crowley didn’t exactly like that answer. Where was the angel that was always happy at the offering of food? He tried to think of something he could have possibly done wrong that would make Aziraphale cross with him, but nothing surfaced. He had been gone. Had that upset him?

“I took care of your plants while you were gone,” Aziraphale said suddenly, changing the topic in a hopefully smooth way.

“What? They would have taken care of themselves. Always do.” Crowley narrowed his eyes. “You weren’t _nice_ to them, were you?” The bashful smile told him the truth. “Bastard. Now I’ll have to go to my flat and make sure you didn’t soften them up.”

“Oh, now, that is hardly necessary. They actually seemed to brighten up quite a lot at being treated correctly.”

“Correctly?” Crowley sounded positively insulted, which just made Aziraphale smile more. “They’ll brighten up however much I bloody tell them to.” He got a scoff in return for that comment. “Guess I’ll go ahead and head to my flat, then.”

“Oh, don’t be so harsh to them, Crowley.”

“They’re the most beautiful plants on the block! And I won’t change that because a certain angel decided to be all nice to them.” Aziraphale placed his hands on his hips and looked at him in disapprovement. “Well, I’ll be off then! I’ll be back to pick you up for dinner!” With that, Crowley was out the door. Aziraphale quickly went back to his slightly slouched posture.

“Dinner… oh dear.”

*  
“I’m so confused.” Crowley was leaned back in his tacky throne, feet kicked up onto his desk. He was holding a plant that Aziraphale had gifted him not too long ago. A small Golden Devil’s Ivy, which wasn’t even surprising. It was the only plant in the flat that didn’t get scared to perfection. Crowley cared for it dearly, and never kept it far from himself when he was home. “It couldn’t have been something I did, right? How can I fuck something up when I’m not even there?”

The plant’s leaves waggled about slightly, indicating that it knew as much as Crowley did on the matter.

“He didn’t even seem mad at me,” the demon continued. “He seemed… nervous. And jumpy. Have I scared him?” Crowley watched as the plant moved slightly, rustling and seeming quite dismissive of that thought. “You’re right, that’s stupid. He would never be afraid of me, despite my hardest efforts in the past.” The plant settled down. “What could it be, then?”

He sighed loudly into the openness of his flat, head falling back as he stared at the ceiling. He was at an absolute loss. Aziraphale had always managed to confuse him, but he eventually got the idea of why he did things. Avoiding his obvious and copious amounts of love? Heaven was breathing down his neck every second of his existence. Crowley had gone too fast, and he realized that. Now, with their sides pretty much ignoring them, it seemed like they could hardly go fast enough to make up for lost time.

“All I did was ask him to lunch.” Crowley looked down at the plant again, seeing it go still for a moment. A few leaves shifted, then one stuck out and pointed to Crowley. More directly, towards his stomach. “What? Yeah, lunch. Uh, eating. I don’t really eat though. I more watch the angel. Food’s not really my thing, rather have a glass of wine. You know-” The leaves rustled to stop his rambling. Crowley furrowed his eyebrows, trying to understand (and slightly angered at being interrupted).

It’s not like he could speak plant. Crowley merely scared the life into them. Or, well, somehow cherished this one so much that it began communicating like the others. He was a demon, he could do whatever he wanted with his plant’s personality.

“What are you… my stomach? What about it?” The plant’s leaves fell like it was becoming annoyed. It then pointed again, quickly and honestly quite aggressively. “Why are you- we’re talking about Aziraphale! Not me!” Those words made the plant go still. Crowley wondered how it could judge him so clearly.

“Blast it all. Forget it.” He set the plant back on the desk, moving his feet back to the ground and standing up. He was stupid for thinking that he could understand what it was trying to tell him. If he had wine for occasions like this, he’d be drinking like a mad man. He needed to be sober for dinner, though. He’d have to wait.

*  
Crowley was surprised when Aziraphale called him at around six in the evening. He picked up immediately, just like always, with a small, “Hello, angel.”

“Crowley. Ah, something came up. I won’t be able to make it to dinner tonight. Terribly sorry,” Aziraphale’s voice spoke from through the phone, sounding very cross. Crowley’s body slumped into his chair, confused and slightly upset.

“What’s up?”

“Business. Uh- business with Heaven. Gabriel wants to see me, has told me I must come to Heaven.” He was repeating himself. Awful liar, he was. “I can’t miss it. He might need to tell me something important this time.” A poor excuse of trying to make a joke in a time like this. Awful, awful liar.

Crowley made an ‘mm’ noise in acknowledgement. He knew Aziraphale was lying, but why was he doing so? He was about to call him out, but the line went dead. Without a goodbye? This wasn’t his Aziraphale.

The demon stood from his seat. “That’s it, I’m going over there. This is getting ridiculous already.” He grabbed his jacket that was hung on the back of the throne, putting it on angrily. “Would at least like to know why Aziraphale has decided to hate me. So sudden, too.” The plant that still sat on the desk rustled, but Crowley ignored it. He was rushing out of his flat to his Bentley, blindly walking with anger and a hint of hurt.

*  
He parked his car about a block away, not wanting Aziraphale to see him and miracle himself from the bookshop. Crowley was pissed. He didn’t know if he was directly mad at Aziraphale or at the fact that he had no idea what was wrong.

Whatever the cause was, he was angry. And he walked into that bookshop like he was planning on breaking whatever items he could get his hands on. Aziraphale looked back from his desk and his face went white. _Good_ , Crowley thought. That’s the only thing he could think.

“Meeting in Heaven, eh?” he said, moving closer in a slow and collected step. It was like a snake inching upon its prey; it was all too realistic. Aziraphale stood from his seat and walked away from the desk, looking at Crowley carefully.

“Calm down, my dear, I can explain.” The angel’s voice was quiet. Not fearful, but he obviously didn’t want to make Crowley any angrier. It didn’t seem to work. Before he knew it, his coat was being grabbed and he was being shoved back into one of the bookshelves. Some of the books fell and crashed to the floor, and Aziraphale went to shoot Crowley a very displeased look, but the look in those serpentine eyes made him immediately forget about doing it.

“Go ahead, then. Explain your lies.” They were closer than when this had last happened. Oh, that felt like only a few days ago, didn’t it? Crowley was impossibly close, pressed right up to the angel in a poor excuse for intimidation. The only thing it managed to do was remind Aziraphale as to why he wanted to cancel dinner, all meals, in the first place.

He studied Crowley’s sharp facial features. He felt the lean body against his own soft form and he immediately wanted away. Aziraphale felt like a lesser. He felt like his body couldn’t even be compared to Crowley’s. And he couldn’t help it. His eyes grew glossed over with tears that he didn’t want falling.

“Please, Crowley, please. Let me go.” His voice was already sounding harsh and cracked from held in tears. And Crowley? Crowley looked terrified at the sight. He had never seen Aziraphale cry. It blew away all of his anger and replaced it with panging guilt. As soon as the hands let go of the lapels of his coat and his counterpart moved away, Aziraphale’s arms wrapped around his stomach.

“Angel,” the demon whispered, placing his hands on Aziraphale’s shoulders. “What’s gotten into you? What happened?” All he got was a head shake. Those blue eyes wouldn’t look up to meet him, and Crowley really must have fucked something up. “Aziraphale. Was it something I did?”

“No!” Aziraphale replied immediately, head jerking up to look at Crowley. “Please, don’t- I don’t want you thinking you’re at fault.” He grabbed Crowley’s hands and moved them from his shoulders, holding them lightly. He didn’t continue speaking.

“Then what is it?” Crowley urged, not moving his hands. His angel seemed in so much emotional pain. When he received a small head shake, he frowned. He didn’t know how to comfort Aziraphale. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing, no matter how hard he tried. In the end, he was only a demon.

It wouldn’t stop him from trying. He let go of one of Aziraphale’s hands, placing his own on the side of his face. The touch caused Aziraphale to flinch in surprise, but he didn’t move away. However, he did look back down at the floor.

“You know you can tell me anything, right?”

“Not this,” Aziraphale mumbled. “You’d think I’m stupid.”

Crowley’s eyebrows furrowed in anger at that. “Stupid?” He moved his other hand and fully cupped the angel’s face, bending his knees and looking up at him. Aziraphale’s eyes went to avoid Crowley’s, but he ended up looking anyway. He didn’t know if he wanted to just say this and get it over with or tell Crowley to leave. Somehow, the thought of him leaving only made the feeling worse.

“Bloody hell. You’re _acting_ stupid. You’re thinking I’m gonna judge you for- for what? I don’t even know what’s wrong, and you think I’m gonna get mad? Or think of you as a fool? What has gotten into your head?” Aziraphale blinked, a few tears running stray down his face. “Oh, angel. Don’t cry. Don’t do that.” Crowley wiped the tears, standing up to full height again. Aziraphale looked up at him now.

“While I was in an actual meeting with Heaven,” Aziraphale started quietly, causing Crowley to quiet down immediately. “The Archangels told me that I lost my Grace. Or, my ability to feel God’s love. It hurt, but I wasn’t Falling. That was the punishment I feared the most.” He stopped for a moment, looking at Crowley anxiously. “I never told you about the time that Gabriel said, ah, some choice things to me. And it didn’t hurt me in that moment, but-”

“What did that fucker say?” Crowley interrupted, the color of his eyes already enveloping the white sides. Any mention of Gabriel made his skin crawl.

“Hold on,” was the reply. “I’m getting to it. Because he says it again. In this… ‘meeting.’ He commented on how unpresentable I look.” Crowley cocked up an eyebrow at that. “He said I was quite the poor excuse for an angel, actually. He told me I should lose my gut.” His voice seemed to get quieter and quieter every few words.

“He- he what? He fucking- Oh my-” He was at a loss for words. Anger, raw and uncontrollable anger, shined brightly in his eyes. “I’ll fucking kill him. I’ll kill him.” He let go of Aziraphale, and for a second the angel was truly terrified that Crowley was about to find a way through the Holy Gates.

“No, Crowley, that’s not the solution to this.” Crowley’s jacket sleeves were grabbed onto, gently but firmly. “Please,” he added, looking up at him.  
It took the demon a few processing seconds to understand how this caused all of Aziraphale’s weird behavior. When it clicked, his body slumped and he grabbed into Aziraphale.

“You can’t possibly believe him.”

“You have to admit that I’m soft, I’m not fit.”

“Who the fuck cares?” The angel blinked in surprise. “You’re you. I wouldn’t change that for anything. You’ve been like this for six-thousand years, and now you’re gonna doubt your perfection because some prick with a pole up his ass decides to comment on it?”

“My perfection? Oh, I wouldn’t-”

“I don’t care what you’d say. This is me talking. Your enemy, your acquaintance, your best friend. Because what you can’t see of yourself, I do. I see your flaws and perfections alike.” Aziraphale’s eyes glimmered with past tears and fondness. “And I could go on and on.” Hands were lightly laid onto the angel’s face again. “All of you is perfect. Your soft and gentle face, your kind attitude with that hint of bastard.” Aziraphale smiled at that. “And don’t even think that you need to change anything about yourself for those wankwing fucks. You’re bloody gorgeous.”

“I- What? I’m-” Crowley’s eyes widened slightly when he realized what he said, then he shook his head. He simply accepted it.

“I’m sorry. I just don’t want you thinking that you’re anything but perfect, y’know?” Crowley sighed, looking at Aziraphale in an almost tired way.

“No one’s ever called me that, I- No one. And, it's coming from you, I don’t know what to say,” he admitted. Crowley stepped closer, his arms moving around the other and pulling him into a hug. Aziraphale fell into it instantly, arms wrapping around Crowley’s lean sides. His head rested against his shoulder. Throughout the many many years of being friends, they had never hugged. The fact that they slid into it like it was an everyday norm pleasantly surprised both of them.

So an angel and a demon spent a good long while standing in the middle of a bookshop, wrapped in the comfort of an embrace that neither knew they needed.

“Well,” Crowley spoke up. “I suppose dinner is back on the table then?” Aziraphale pulled back to look at him, hands resting on the demon’s upper arms. He smiled fondly.

“Of course, my dear Crowley.”

“Wonderful- uh, great.” He stumbled a little over his words, then leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s forehead. He released the other quickly, stepping back in embarrassment. And Aziraphale? The bastard had the nerve to laugh.

“Come here, you fool,” he whispered, reclosing the distance between them and pulling Crowley into a kiss, a real kiss. And to say that he was happy was an understatement. He felt like he was an angel again. He felt like he was back in his place, making stars. He felt like an Archangel again… but this was somehow even better than that. He couldn’t even begin to explain it.

Aziraphale was the first to pull back, laughing again at the dazed look in his partner’s eyes. Crowley sighed and shook his head, smiling despite himself.

“Right, then. If you’d like to get dinner instead of embarrassing me some more, we could do that.”

“Why, that’d be lovely.” Crowley grinned and went to turn around, but Aziraphale grabbed his arm lightly. “After you pick up the books you so rudely knocked over.” The angel sauntered off at that, throwing a smile over his shoulder.

“Bastard.”


End file.
